Just This - Wedding Night
by Jessie Marsh
Summary: An alternative, naughtier version of what happens after Sandra and Robert leave their wedding reception in JUST THIS.


_Gotta be honest, don't know how this happened… possibly too much wine. This is my first, ahem, adult edition – contained usually as I am to smutty innuendo – but anyway, here it is, hope it's ok… Jessie xx_

**Wedding Night (explicit)**

Once it had been quietly established that Rufus' departure had damaged only the groom's ego; the evening began to drift towards its natural conclusion. Those with children were the first to leave, Mia taking Bella back to the flat leaving a bereft Darren Holmes to gather his passengers and make the trip back to the London hotel they had booked to prepare for a night on the town. The people left on the dancefloor were generally barely known to the UCOS family; most had turned up either through accident or curiosity. Gerry's extended network of ex-wives and daughters were the only welcome guests still present. A few members of the force top-brass had popped in over the evening to offer their insincere congratulations to two officers who had formerly been heralded as shining lights but now, as far as they were concerned, had traded in their ambitions for an affair which must have been going on for years to have kept them both in their respective positions. Rob, more so than Sandra, was the receiver of their attentions. Either because she was considered the reason he had settled at DAC or because she had fallen off their radar, having exchanged opportunity for attainment in order to ruffle feathers which were preened to false perfection waiting for their pensions.

"If only they knew," Rob murmured in her ear as he led her in the last dance of the night.

She wasn't in the least suspicious of Lizzie behind the bar, who'd provided him with the sobering coffee he'd needed when they'd returned from seeing Rufus off. In truth, she knew that they'd never made it as an item despite both wanting it at various times over the years. She'd selfishly returned to the boys. Yet after he'd drank sufficient coffee to bring him back to her, she was powerless to resist. God knows what it was that drew her to him, time after time, but she loved him for some reason. She'd held up a hand to silence the apologies he hadn't yet made, uncharacteristically kissed him in the middle of the dancefloor to satisfy both herself and the whispering onlookers and taken her place in his hold for the last dance.

Leaving the free-loaders to the dregs of last orders, they thanked the band and the landlord, passing a generous tip to be shared amongst Lizzie and the others and made their escape. Gerry and a slightly soberer Steve promised to take care of collecting anything left behind and waved off the newly-weds as they made their way into the night.

It was a short walk, alongside the river, to the hotel where Rob's sister had paid for the honeymoon suite. "_And breakfast,_" Rob whispered as the night-porter turned to collect the key. Suddenly everything was funny and Sandra giggled like a child much to the amused eyebrow of the night-porter who directed them to the room and left them to it. As the door clicked closed behind, an enormous silence fell. Until they caught each other's eye and fell about laughing like teenagers.

"Why…?" Sandra drew in a massive breath between her bouts of laughter and leant against the post of the bed. She wasn't sure that the gesture was as sexy as it could be, the psychological affects of her condition already effecting her, but the slight relaxation offered her attention span to free up some space from her aching muscles to enjoy the sight of her husband still in all of his wedding splendour.

"I … don't know," Rob offered helplessly, shrugging his shoulders in a Charlie-Chaplin-esque way. In his full wedding suit, miraculously still adorning him, he felt suddenly warm and overdressed. Perhaps it was the promise of the four-poster bed positioned behind the seductive pose of his wife; maybe it was the effect of several glasses of champagne over a hangover, followed by many beers, gins and god-knows what else; or possibly it was simply the sight of the most beautiful woman in the world standing in front of him, her wedding dress framed by the blue jacket Mia had thoughtfully left behind at the pub.

Sandra bowed her head and giggled again. "Relief?" she offered, although the explanation was far more likely the avoidance of the obvious stalling. They were both adults, yet the obvious would still happen.

Rob blew out his cheeks. "Maybe, drink?"

He pointed at the cheeky bottle of champagne that was sitting in an ice-bucket. Sandra grinned. He lifted the bottle and artfully tore the golden foil, twisted the wire and covered the cork with the provided cloth, nudging and guiding the gentle pop. He carefully poured two glasses, replaced the bottle and turned back to his wife, smiling. His smile fell as he noticed her hand placed across her abdomen. "Are you ok?"

Sandra lifted her gaze to his worried façade and nodded, gently biting her lip. "Come here," she whispered, reaching for him with her left hand while her right remained rooted to its place. She hated to dispel the idea of romantic, alcoholic, consummation that had been brewing, but she needed him in just as fervent a way to know something else.

Replacing the glasses, Rob covered the short distance to her. His head was still vaguely fuzzy from the day's assault and a simple nod had done little to assuage his concern.

"Here," she whispered, taking his hand and replacing her own with his soft touch, holding it gently in place and waiting while stillness fell and stayed like a mist around them for an indefinable time. Eventually, through the cool, silky folds of her dress; he felt the unmistakable bubble of their child's movement within her.

He leant towards her, governed by unconscious desire. Capturing her lips with his, they savoured the moment until the unspoken emotion nearly broke them. "How about that drink?" she asked, forced her hands to fall from his waist.

"To us?" he asked as he handed her the glass. His breathing was already heavy as he struggled to cope with the feelings within him.

She shook her head.

"To the first kicks?" he teased, lightly trusting himself to be able to maturely side-step his baser urges.

She shook her head. "I felt it this morning too," she admitted shyly. "I didn't say anything, because I wasn't sure that's what it was, and then at the reception…"

"It's ok," he smiled. "Hey," he wiped away the first tear as he waited. "It's ok, you don't have to …"

"Be alone anymore?" she glanced at him, wishing that there wasn't a part of her that needed to say what she'd just said out-loud. It embarrassed her sometimes, to know herself how much she needed him.

"Or be scared," he told her. He knew her. He knew her too well. He lifted his glass.

She met his glass with hers. "To us," she smiled, giving in to getting the toast over and done with so that they could move on to the next part of the evening.

They talked idly for a few minutes about the events of the day, sipping the champagne and enjoying each others company, each eyeing up the other subtly wondering who would break first.

"God it's quiet in here!" Sandra exclaimed. Of all the thoughts in her head, that was the one that made it out, she shook her head in disbelief. "Cold too."

Rob grinned, took the glass from her hand and drew her to him. He ran his hands over her arms. Smiling as she responded to the warmth she received from him, she glanced away. Following her eyeline to the four-poster behind them, he waited for her attention to return to him.

"Long day," he summarised neutrally.

"Good day," she corrected lightly.

"Tiring though," he suggested.

Smiling, she kissed him lightly, running her hands beneath his jacket, over his hips and up his back, pulling herself towards his body. "I think it undoes at the back," she whispered softly, threatening to recreate the distance.

"Mmm," he murmured, his hands were firmly placed on her behind, but ran obligingly upwards to the base of her spine where the bow of the ribbons that secured the dress to her frame were tied. Half-dunk fingers fumbled at the bow as she pulled back and turned slowly in his grasp. The fastenings released after a moment's quick work, he couldn't help but hold his quickening breath as he aided the dress' journey to the floor, revealing her underclothes.

She revelled in the silence she'd caused as his soft fingers guided the heavy dress from her body. It had taken a lot of consideration on her part what to wear underneath the dress; consideration that had not come into conversation with either her step-daughter or her mother. Esther had proved surprisingly suggestive and correct it would seem in suggesting the traditional corset and stockings.

She stepped deftly, one long white stocking-ed leg at a time from the showy silk that had been the attention of the day. Rob stepped back and kicked off his shoes while she took her time in turning around, picking up the dress and draping it across the back of a chair. The mundanities of this little housekeeping seen to, she turned fully to him. White stockings, pale blue detailing at the garters and a prettily forgiving corset top were all that protected him from her naked form. He felt considerably over-dressed, as his deep sigh suggested.

She stepped back toward him, her hands immediately finding their way over his shoulders, sliding the heavy darkest grey tailed jacket from him as her lips refused to wait any longer. The kiss was deep, long and full of assurance.

He'd looked so handsome from the second she'd set eyes on him at the front of the church. Yet piece, by piece, she brought them to an even footing. The sky blue cravat. The storm grey waistcoat. The black leather belt. He was before her in untucked shirt and trousers in a matter of minutes. With barely an inch between any part of their body, she felt that he was ready. He made the next move; pushing her against the foot of the bed, feeling her body close against his own, the heat mingling with just a thin layer of cloth covering them both; hands roaming untamed upon each other's bodies, longing for more. He lowered his hold to lift her and carry her roughly around the corner of the bed and lay her lovingly upon it. Her hands made short work of his trousers while he pulled the shirt over his head. He was naked before her. Yet she had started the game, it seemed unfair. She relented to this unspoken accusation and allowed him to redress the balance. It has always been a peculiar thing that the amount of time a woman puts in to an appearance is directly relevant to the amount of time they wish a man to take enjoying it. Sandra was patient, and Robert was kind. If he made to rush, she would distract him with kisses to make him last the distance. This was their wedding night and she'd be damned if it was over too soon. She pulled him to her, once the fastenings had been undone, making him forget for a moment what he had been about to give attention to. She regretted her haste as he withdrew, always that hollow feeling that she had been too rash, that she had ruined already that which hadn't become yet to be perfect. Yet he dispelled that doubt with his dedication, first to fully unclothing her breasts, allowing a moment to run his hands down the sides of her body before returning to support himself as he lavished attention to first the left, then the right. The rounded firmness of her belly, a situation which already betrayed their love, was betrothed on their wedding night not with its purpose, but with kisses and a tenderness that would not dirty its innocence. Lower he ventured, pausing at the lace protection and halted by the hands on his shoulders, begging him to return to where she could reach. Their lips locked once more, he slipped his hand below and furthered the magic he knew he was orchestrating. A moment later, she pushed him away with a moan, exciting his ego and giving him the energy to sit back on his haunches and enjoy the unclasping and releasing of the last remnants of silk and lace adorning her body. It was only when they were both now fully naked that their eyes met, full of lust, need and desire. He leant forward once more, mouth on mouth, hand on hand, hands lowering, exciting each other, preparing each other, readying for the growing necessity which each of them felt.

They were neither of them new to the experience. Sandra had lost her virginity to a lad from the boys school, shortly after her father's death. She'd become a wild child, untamable by her mourning mother; she couldn't remember his name. Rob had been more restrained, nineteen, to a girl who's name he'd always know but never reveal.

As she guided him, his intention changed, she held him, her way of having control just for a moment. His hands had become free once more, one, happily finding her breast while the other supported him above her. The dance began, slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony as they subconsciously came together in a release of ecstasy which surpassed any previous experience. Afterwards, he pulled the cool white bed-covers over them both and they drifted into an easy sleep. Happy, married and in love.


End file.
